The Bar
by Moostache
Summary: Natalie has rules. Rules that George Luz broke within the first few days of knowing her. It seems her father's bar will keep pulling them together... Luz/OC
1. Chapter 1

**The Bar**

To say the bar was full was an understatement. The bulky shoulders of uniformed men collided with their brother's as they moved, attempting not to spill their drinks upon each other. Beers were clutched tightly in white knuckled hands as the vast sea of Toccoa men flooded around a single table. The other inhabitants of the bar stayed well out of their way, and not even Dog Company dared to disturb the men as they sat and talked.

In a war, one did not get to spend much time with their friends. Your day mainly consisted of getting shot at, running and the occasional deafening explosion. To these men, tonight was a night when beer and liquor would be drunk and ranks would be forgotten.

But, to the small bartender, tonight was not a night to relax. The young woman was a mere 20 years of age. Not even old enough to drink. Now, what do you suppose she was doing in that bar? She wondered that herself, questioning her Father's wishes. She frowned and continued to morosely towel off a beer glass.

Her father was busy speaking with higher members of the men who now occupied her small French town, attempting to convince them to leave their small farm alone and to quit stealing our cows and chickens. She chuckled, shaking her head and placing the glass on the counter. She didn't mind them taking the cows or chickens, because personally that meant she didn't have to milk them or harvest the eggs.

The fair skinned woman paid no attention to the coming and going soldiers who smiled and winked at her. She merely smiled and nodded once; reassuring the man with false hopes that he may stand a chance with her. When they attempted to converse, she rebutted with a simple, "Je ne parle pas anglais… Je suis désolé."

She lied of course, because she knew how to speak English. She knew very well what those men were saying about her and her country. Yet, she had been raised to be seen and not heard, so her opinions stayed behind tightly closed lips.

Frowning as two men approached the bar, she eyed them suspiciously. One was short, tan with dark hair while the other seemed to be his opposite: taller, lighter skinned and donning a messed mass of brown hair. The taller one was wielding a small book, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

The two men slumped over the book before stepping to the counter. The smaller man took the tattered paperback from his friend's hands, squinting at the words.

"Puis-je avoir une bière," he paused before making a face at the page and turning to his friend, "What the hell, Luz… What is that… A little triangle thing? How do you say that?"

The taller man, raising an eyebrow nonchalantly, peered over his friends shoulder. He eyed it before smacking his friend upside the head.

"S'il vous plait, ya idiot." The man called Luz spat sarcastically, "It means 'please'. Y'know, basic French?"

The smaller man laughed sheepishly before shrugging and smiling at the bartender.

The woman who had watched the whole thing only eyed both men, her eyebrows furrowed. Brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, she simply refilled a glass of the tap beer, and gingerly slid it across the counter.

She quickly returned to work.

Satisfied, the smaller man took the beer and sipped it, slapping the pocket dictionary on his friend's chest. He returned to his loud, boisterous table with a belch, causing the whole area to burst into sudden chuckles. The bartender thought she heard them both walk away, consequently she turned to continue cleaning the beer glasses that had begun to stack up on the counter.

She jumped slightly when she came face to face with the taller man from before.

He was leaning awkwardly on the counter, a goofy, cocky smile plastered to his face. His brown eyes watched her with hint of amusement as she bent down to pick up the towel she had dropped in shock. Not once did her blue eyes break from his dark ones.

It was awkward to her, since she had only encountered the man minutes before when he walked up bearing an English to French pocket dictionary. The woman continued to stare wide eyed at him before she turned her back, continuing to wash the dishes. Yet, every few seconds, she would turn her head back, checking to see if he was still there.

Sure enough, on the fifth time, he still was.

"So. Where are you from?"

The blonde's eye twitched, her hands flickering over dirty beer glass before dropping it in shock. The bar was loud, yet the constant persistence of this man was beginning to wear on her. She didn't expect him to just stand there and watch her, but he seemed to continue doing so, even when she didn't answer.

"Hey, beautiful, anyone in there?" He asked a little louder this time as the woman handed a small glass of whiskey to a Sergeant from Fox Company. Her eyes flicked to him once before she mumbled a quick response.

"What do you want, soldier?" Her French accent drawled across her English, mangling them into an exotic sounding sarcasm. Geogre Luz, the man at the counter, raised both eye brows.

"Ahhh. So the dame does speak English."

"Oui. What do you want?" She kept her words quiet and her sentences short, hoping not to let any of the other soldiers hear.

"Your name." Luz shot a smile at her as she leaned on one leg and throwing the towel over her right shoulder. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, inspecting the front of her alcohol stained dress.

"Non. Aller. Parler à vos amis." She simply stated, going back to her first language. It was not that the woman was uncomfortable in English, it was just that she much stronger in French. It was, after all, her home's way of speaking.

"Ahm…" He patted the bar once, shrugging, "I had no idea what that meant."

She scoffed, stacking the beer glass behind the others on the counter.

"So, yeah. About that name…" He pointed to himself, "I'm George."

"Pourquoi dois-je les soins?" She smiled, shaking her head at his confusion.

"Okay. French is not allowed from here on in." George mustered up, "For all I know, you could have just called me Hitler's most beautiful daughter."

The woman laughed at this comment.

"I would never."

"There we go, beautiful. Now we can both understand each other." George flipped through the pages of the pocket dictionary lazily, before flipping his eyes up to the woman's. "Name?"

"Natalie." She mumbled, her focus being on trying not to spill the over flown glass of beer she was handing to one of the Privates. The young man muttered a quick 'thank you' before taking off with his beer.

"Natalie. Hun, that's a gorgeous name fit for a gorgeous woman like yourself."

She only nodded, paying the counter top more attention than him. She swiped her towel across it, lifting glasses and heaving them into the sink.

"Oui."

"Hey, well. Alright, little miss sassy pants." George winked and leaned over the counter, his elbows tucked under himself, "Didn't know you had it in ya'."

Natalie shrugged, trying to put him off as best she could. The man, George, was attractive, she had to admit. His hair was a mess, yet fit his personality well. His brown eyes screamed mischief and even untold amusement in his surroundings at all times. He seemed like the man who would jump on the moment he could make her laugh.

"Where are _you _from, monsieur?" She asked off handedly, well, as off handedly as she could make it. Her attention was completely on him now, as she cleaned the dishes in front of her.

"US of A, madam." George only grinned. Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Oui. I knew that." She scoffed, "Where in the 'US of A'?"

"Grew up in West Warwick. It's in Rhode Island." He smiled slightly. Natalie guessed he was remembering his childhood r something of that sort, since his face flashed with pain for a split second.

"Ah. That is the small state, correct?"

"Yeah, the small one." Luz chuckled at her and nodded, beaming happily. Natalie smiled back, but not as largely. Her smile was shy and timid, a sign she was simply testing the waters.

"Y'know, beautiful, you should smile more often. You're gorgeous when ya' do." He muttered the last bit with a twinkle in his eyes as leaned in and laughed. Natalie shook her head and rolled her eyes, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. She wasn't going to admit it, but George was nice. Nicer than the other soldiers she had met.

"Oui? Thank you then, George."

George concealed a visible shudder. It was so glorious when she said his name, her French accents drabbling bits of her native tongue on the syllables. It was like a fresh drink of water for him, a friendly face who wouldn't sock him in the jaw. The war was taking a toll on him, he knew, but at least he could come out of it saying one thing:

_He sure as hell met a lot of beautiful women._

George opened his mouth to compliment her again, but he was interrupted by the low rumble of Buck Compton.

"_George! Get over here! Tell us that story about the chicken and your sister again!" _

George Luz froze, his body rising from the bar stool. She only watched him, a hint of sadness in her eyes. He rolled his eyes at Natalie before nodding, his lips twisting into a smile.

"See ya around, beautiful. Duty calls."

"Au revoir, George." She smiled, "Stay safe."

He saluted cockily at her, instilling the hope that maybe she would she him again soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fight**

"**One word can lead to many altercations." –Unknown**

**N**atalie was not scared at first. Men were being men in the bar. They were bellowing loud drunken slurs at one another, throwing sloppy drunken punches. If anything, Natalie was curious. It seemed as if someone had said something to make the Americans mad, because before she knew it, one of the smaller soldiers was at an English Private's throat. This seemed to cause a spark upon the ready kindle of the bar. Soon, the whole place was up in arms, and Natalie found herself ducking thrown whiskey glasses and beer bottles.

When a rather large, half full, bottle of _Korenbourg 1664 _smashed against the wall above her head, Natalie quickly peeped in fear before ducking to shield herself from the raining bits of small green glass. The skirmish wasn't as bad as it sounded, when really; it was more of two Americans throwing punches at 5 or so Englishmen. The odds of the Americans winning were slim, so, trying to preserve the patronage of her father's bar, Natalie rose from behind the counter.

Her eyes scanned the crowded circle of men yelling across to one another. She darted her eyes to the fight just in time to spot a man being socked in the jaw by, what she presumed to be, one of the Americans. She heard a rowdy chorus of one man's name…

"Bill! Kick his goddamn ass!"

Of course she had heard of him. He didn't look like anything Natalie expected.

She expected a rough, larger than life behemoth, someone who was ready to kill anything that moved aggressively towards it. The women of the town, even her close friend Jennifer, had commented that his looks were good; not to mention of Italian decent.

Her father's bar, named _Boire de Minuit, _was located on one of the main streets used to transport weaponry, tanks and soldiers. Many of the soldiers had taken up bed in any empty houses located in the town, and at night, it seemed as if her father's small bar became the watering hole for many. The cobblestone road outside was frequently traveled, so of course, Natalie had heard of this man from the constant stream of soldiers coming and going from her father's bar. They said he was an animal, who tore down his enemies carelessly and quickly, just as the perfect soldier should.

It all seemed to move in slow motion for him as he fought back the Englishmen. At one point, a strong punch had been thrown into his face, causing him to stumble around the floor.

"Hey!" Natalie barked, and at once the bar had gone quiet, "If you are going to fight, take it outside. Look at what you've done to my bar already!"

Some of the soldiers shuffled awkwardly, while others kept their eyes glued upon her. From behind the crowd, Natalie made quick eye contact with the man who was fighting along side Bill. It was George Luz. His hair looked like more a mess than usual, but that might have been because he was still in the choke hold of one of the British soldiers.

Natalie shot a glare at the man who promptly released a gasping George.

Soldiers began to make their ways back to their tables, slurs flying past on another. The words that were exchanged wouldn't be forgotten, and Natalie had no doubt both the Americans and Brits would be at one another's throats again soon.

Returning to her work, Natalie now was scraping up a pile of green glass that resided over on her side of the bar. The beer bottle had only smashed against the wall moments before, and amber alcohol was still dripping from the grotesque splatter it left on the old wooden wall. Natalie jumped when a familiar voice called out her name.

"Heya, Nat."

Her light eyes rolled in their sockets, and she stood at full height, mind you, a generous 5' 6". Natalie was petite, yet an average size. Her frame was neither bulky nor twig-like. Her legs, her mother had always reasoned, were long from her height. Though, raised on a farm was something that gave a girl muscle, especially when it came to milking the cows and raising hay bails. Natalie did not consider herself strong, nor did she consider her self beautiful, or skinny or all of those things other women loved to gripe about. She was not being modest, but really only thought the one mere good thing about herself were her hands .

They could work quickly, grasping eggs gently enough to keep them safe, but fast enough to harvest them all within a minute. Her hands were soft, but calloused from hours of farm work. The two working appendages also constantly impressed her with the ability they had to seemingly pull art out of a blank sheet of paper.

"What do you want, George Luz?" She drawled slowly, watching his lips twitch when she said his name. Soon that dumb lopsided grin was playing on his lips again.

"Howa 'bout a game of darts?" He haggled, leaning on the bar and winking, "You and me. I'll bet you a glass a beer that I'll kick your sweet French behind."

Natalie only furrowed her brow.

"I am working, George. I cannot play with you." Natalie returned to scraping the glass up off the floor, "I have a job to do."

"Oh c'mon, beautifullll." George was beginning to whine, and heads at the English end of the bar began to snap around at the two.

"I said, 'no'." She countered light-heartedly. Her hands quickly worked, plucking up pieces and tossing them into a bin under the bar.

"S'il vous plaît?" George winked, making a reference to the escaped that had gone down only a night before. Natalie chuckled at this, her shoulders bobbing once or twice. She shook her head again.

"S'il vous plaît with a cherry on top?"

"Please with a cherry on top?" Natalie asked confusedly, resting one hand on her hip while the other whipped the bar clean with a rag.

"Pwetty please with a cherry and ice cream and all things nice?"

"Why would I want please with cherry _and _ice cream." Natalie pursed her lips, "You Americans are so very _éstrange_."

"I'm going to keep pestering you if-"

"Oui, fine. One round." She dropped her rag exasperatedly, rolling her eyes once more at George Luz, who was calling over more of her American friends.

"Hey! Fellas! She's gunna play!"

There was a chorus of cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Bet**

"**I feel bad for women, mainly because they deal with men." –Unknown**

**F**or the men of Easy Company, it was nothing new for George Luz to be dancing, so to speak, around with any woman he saw. It was common knowledge that Luz loved women. Luz loved women more than air. And really, any man of Easy Company would give you that same answer, especially in a time of war. But, the women weren't too keen on George it seemed… No one knew why; Luz was funny as all hell, handsome too. He was the kind of guy to drag you out of a hard place if you needed it.

The funny part was it seemed George Luz was more of a 'best friend' than a 'let-us-make-love friend'.

The chatter at Easy's table was astounding to say the least. More than half of the men were drunk off their seats. One of these men was the small Italian, Frank Perconte. Now, Frank and Luz had been friends for a good long while; since they started out as troopers at Camp Toccoa. To Frank, Luz's actions around Natalie Déchame were like his actions with any other French, German, or American girl. George was just as keen as having sex with her than any other girl.

Now, to everyone else, they thought nothing of this. They were soldiers, and that is what they do. Yet, to Natalie, she found herself actually having _fun._

This was rare. The war was not kind to anyone nowadays, and fun and joy were things that you never found anymore. It was as if these things had gone missing, only to be rationed out to the people like food. When it did come, it was sparse, like a small bought of laughter or the cry of a newborn baby. These things, however, came under fire, just like anything else in a war.

So, Nat figured she would have a good time while it lasted.

The men of Easy Company were extremely sweet to her. She simply smiled as many of them wished her luck against Luz in the dart game. The only officer who paid her mind was Buck Compton. He had taken up to her side, instead of gathering around the back of the match like the others. Buck smiled at her and claimed to be the official dart giver. Luz yelped at him playfully, calling him out on the fact that he would try and help Nat win. Buck denied it, and shook his head, telling Luz to hurry up and play the goddamn game.

"Fine. Fine." Luz took one of the worn old silver darts from Buck, "Don't be so pushy, Buck."

Luz lazily through his arm forward, releasing the dart and letting it fly. It soared quickly and imbedded itself with in the 20 ring, just outside the bullseye. Surveying his work, Luz popped his lips and motioned cockily to Nat.

"Your turn, beautiful."

"Oui."

Natalie gently took a dart from Buck, muttering a quick 'Merci'. Natalie extended her arm and snapped quickly, letting the dart land in the 15 ring, the third one out.

There was a chorus of muttered bets being placed behind the duo of dart players. Some were betting Luz would dominate and others betting the other way around. Overall, most of Easy believed Natalie would win. It seemed like a meek outlook, but I guess the men figured they had nothing to lose... Except their money.

But, that's beside the point.

Buck gave Natalie an encouraging look as Luz look another dart, and tossed it. This time, the dart hit where Nat's did on her last turn: 15. Luz smirked, obviously proud of himself. Nat only rolled her eyes at him and took another dart.

She guessed she did something wrong, because in the flurry of the throw, the dart somehow lodged itself into the wall above the actual board. Nat's face flushed red as laughter came from behind her. The company was laughing in good spirits, but as Buck hushed them, Luz spoke up.

"Alright, hun. You get a re-do. But, this time _I get to show you how to throw_."

Nat only crossed her arms and let Luz retrieve the dart from the wall. With some tugging, the dart finally became unstuck and set Luz staggering backwards a few steps. He returned to his spot near Nat, and handed her the dart.

"Go to throw the dart, but don't, hun." Sighing, Nat complied and put her arm up. Suddenly, the bar was in an uproar.

"Show her howta' do it right, Luz!"

"She aint got it!"

Smiling goofily and muttering in a rather official voice, Luz began his commentary on her dart throwing skills.

"Ahhhh. Yep, yep, yep. I see your, uh, problem, dear." He through his head back, shaking it, "You are not, uh, in the correct position, dear."

Natalie looked at him, laughing slightly at his voice, "Oui? Then fix it, monsieur."

She was flirting now. And she really couldn't believe it. She was Natalie Déchame, and she hardly ever paid a man any mind. She was just a farmer's daughter anyways, not lke she all the men in the world after her… but these soldiers would do anything for a woman to spend the night with… Now she realized, this American, George Luz, was going to go breaking each rule she had set during this war. He had already broken her rule number one: Don't talk with the soldiers.

Nat jumped slightly as Luz maneuvered behind her, resting his hands on hers, and leaving one hand to rest on her hip.

_Rule two: Don't get close to the soldiers._

Luz chuckled somewhat, muttering a quiet: "I won't bite ya'."

Natalie only blushed and nodded, letting Luz have his way. The soldier was now pressed against her backside, extending her arm towards the board and whispering tips on throwing to her. Nat turned her head slightly, looking at Luz from the corner of her eyes. He smiled goofily back, wiggling his eyebrows: "Ya' like what ya' see, babe?"

"Non. Let me throw the dart. This game must end soon, I have work to do." Natalie only watched him more, as she smiled dropped and he stepped back, holding his arms out defensively.

"Fine, fine. Go ahead." Luz turned away from her, mockingly hurt, "I see that's what I am to you."

"Trash?" Buck quipped, adding to the conversation.

"Oui. Merci, Monsieur Compton." Natalie threw the dart again, and this time it lodged itself into the 20 ring.

"See! Imma great teacher!" Luz laughed, patting his own back.

Now, the game continued on for another hour, Natalie and Luz bickering back and forth over how much a throw was worth, how terrible the other was, and any other form of sportsmanly misconduct. At the end of the night, the score was a whopping 105 to 175.

Luz won his bet.

And Nat gave him that beer.

But it seemed Luz had one too many that night, and proceeded to pass out on the _Boire de Minuit_'s floor.

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><p><strong>Thank you everyone for your kind reviews! I'm glad so many people have taken interest in this story! I might cram out another chapter of this tonight, since it's early and I'm eager to use my new laptop!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**The Rumors**

"**When you do something in a small town, your parents, neighbors and school teacher are bound to know in at least an hour." –Unknown**

**T**he one time Natalie Déchame returned home late from a night's work was the night there was hell to mother was waiting at the door, arms crossed and foot tapping. The elder blonde woman was scowling, small bits of wrinkles tugging at once smooth fair skin. The blonde curls that sat atop her head seemed to echo her annoyance, blowing in the wind and not bothering to even look nice.

Natalie, slightly shamed, walked through the front door passed her mother; her head hung low.

The shrill, dry scolding over her mother came down on her quick, leaving Natalie standing in the small kitchen. She held her head low, listening to the banter of her mother, who was not at all happy.

"Eloise May came running here telling me you were drinking with the soldiers! Ce quie est _unacceptable. _I cannot believe you!" Nat shrunk down, scowling.

"Eloise May is a liar, mama! I didn't drink with them!" Natalie tried to explain, not daring to raise her voice at her mother.

Eloise May was the gossip queen of the town. Her parents were wealthy; leaving her at what was the top of the social scale. Any girl in town prayed that they would become her friend, for good reasons. Eloise was vicious. She spread rumors, scandalous and untrue, about anyone she hated. The dark haired woman was only a year older than Natalie. Suddenly, Nat realized he chances of being believed were 0 to none.

"Eloise was walking by the _Minuit!_ She saw you!"

"She sees everyone, Marie."

From the other room, Natalie's father Pierre, spoke up. His voice was low, with underlying tones of annoyance and anger. Her father was one to rarely get angry, so his tone was terrifying to Natalie. She watched him silently put down the newspaper he was reading, and sit up in his chair, eyeing his daughter.

"Eloise May has no business snooping. But, she does have a point. Those Americans are dangerous, Natalie. I do not want you loitering with them." Her father only placed a hand on her shoulder, "Men are not gentlemen in times of war."

"But papa, these men are very friendly! If only you'd meet them! I played darts with them and they showe-"

"You did _what?_" Her mother cut in this time, raising her voice, "You did not play darts with those men! That is so… _Unlady like!_"

Natalie only shrugged. It was not she had won. If she did, that would be unlady like.

Her father intercepted, "Natalie, please. Do us a favor, chéri… Do not speak with them. It is better safe than sorry, oui?"

"Oui, papa. I'm sorry."

"To your room, now. Go freshen up and go to bed." Her mother flapped her arms behind Natalie, urging her to bed.

With a quick nod, Natalie retired for the night.

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><p>Luz's brown eyes drooped lazily under heavy lids. The radioman was hung over. Really hungover. Like, who the hell put the bells of Notre Dame in my head, hungover. George stumbled over Perco's foot and caught himself lazily, shooting the small Italian a look that screamed, "Go fuck yourself."<p>

Perconte only laughed and nudged Luz's arm as the two staggered down the crowded French street, "So, didya see Nat again later lastnight."

Perconte wiggled his eyebrows slightly, hinting at the underlying meanings of his words. Luz scoffed tiredly, wincing at the sudden loudness of the trucks putting down the cobblestone road beside them.

"Frank, if I remembered anything from last night, I'm sure it would be the fact that I slept with the most beautiful woman I've seen in months."

Perco's eyes widened in disbelief, "Eh, woah woah woah."

Suddenly, the small man stopped, his boots becoming stuck to the pavement. Frank Perconte didn't dare move, in fear that George would say something again. Switching his helmet to rest under his other arm, Perco raised his voice, "What tha' _hell._ You just got sentimental on me, man."

Luz stopped a few feet in front of him, clenching his jaw and shrugging carelessly, "I wasn't bein' sentimental. I was bein' honest."

"Yeah? What tha' hell ever happened to our rules? No attachments, remembah'? Girls and war do not mix well. It's pretty much guaranteed ta' blow up in _your _goddamn face." Perco shook his head and continued walking, "She aint even that pretty."

Luz eyed Perco for a moment, rolling his eyes, "You wouldn't know 'pretty' if it shot you in the goddamn ass."

"I wouldn't wanna know 'pretty'." Frank quipped, shaking his head at Luz. The hung over radioman now had a smile on his face as he stared straight ahead, watching men continue to flurry in and out of the buildings. _He seems happy_, Frank mused, _which was a plus, given the fact that he's gotta hang over. A cranky Luz is a cranky Easy Company._

The two continued down the bustling streets in silence, letting the warm sun hit their faces and the blue sky dwell above them. The duo walked by the bakery, where a woman was arguing rather fiercely with the baker over bread; The walked by the church, where nuns were exiting in straight filed lines; Finally, the passed the _Boire de Minuit. _

Luz couldn't help but peer in the large glass window out front, hoping that he would catch a glimpse of Natalie, and her blonde curls. Instead, he got the glaring look of an older man, cleaning the bar's tables inside. The two caught eyes for moment, before Perconte spoke up.

"Who tha' hell is he? Creepy old man…" Frank yeeshed, pulling Luz along by the sleeve, "C'mon, George."

George broke contact with him quickly, continuing down the street, his jaw clenching. Now the two soldiers were passing the local market, where meat, fresh milk, eggs and other goods were bought and sold and traded. The crowd was large and quick on their feet, grabbing what they needed and paying, all in a matter of minutes.

Suddenly, Perconte spotted a mass of blonde curls bouncing in the crowd.

Luz must've spotted her too, because suddenly, the radioman was on his tip toes, searching through the crowd. The radioman was standing at full height, and soon he was crossing the road quickly, one hand on the strap to his rifle and the other holding his helmet on his head. With all the urgency in the world, George rush across the street.

He entered the marketplace with wide eyes and Perconte calling after him. Small Italian just couldn't keep up with Luz's rush strides.

"Yo! Luz! Get back here!"

Luz ignored him and cut through the mob of people, apologizing and shoving his way through. One rather large man cursed at him furiously, screaming: "Va te faire foutre!" and Luz only guessed that meant very mean things in French. Luz ignored him and finally spotted the blonde curls once more.

"Hey! Hey, Nat!"

The woman turned around, a small basket beneath her arm. The contents were only of bread and some deli meat he didn't recognize. She was lingering near the apples, holding a large Granny Smith and inspecting it. She gently placed it in her basket, before staring at George as he moved closer to her.

"Uh, hey." Luz greeted, waving slightly, "Long time, no see."

Natalie's eyes peered nervously around the crowd behind him as he carried on, "How are ya'? I, uh, I'm sorry about lastnight. I didn't mean to-"

There was the devil. Nat spotted her.

"Monsieur Luz. I must get going." Nat collected two more apples before standing at full height.

Luz was suddenly disappointed.

"But, I'll help ya' carry some stuff!" Luz held his arms like a child begging a toy. He only wanted to help Nat, but apparently now wasn't the time.

The young blonde was panicking. From the corner of her eye, she had spotted the ever so dreadful Eloise May. She stood tall on the corner of the street opposite of her, three or more girls huddled behind her back. The brunette was glaring, with arms crossed. When Nat made eye contact with her, a sudden grin broke across the woman's sinister face.

"Non. Je suis désolé!" Nat frantically waved him off, feeling a twang of guilt as Perconte made his way towards Luz, muttering angrily. She truly did wish she could stay and chat, but Natalie was in no mood for a reprimand. Once her mother found out, there would be _hell to pay._

George only watched her form scurry out and away from the two as the stood in silence, letting the hustle and bustle of crowd drown them out.

Later that night, Luz went to the _Boire de Minuit _with the rest of Easy. Not for the drink, but more to see the blonde once more. Yet…

She wasn't there.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so glad so many of you guys have taken interest in the story. I promise it will get a little more interesting later on, when the Germans actually bring their asses to the party. Hopefully, you guys haven't lost interest yet. I would love to incorporate a love triangle, but I really have no idea who to match Nat with besides Jolly Old Saint Luz! If any of you have ideas, tell me! Anything will help! And as always, thank you so much for the ever so kind reviews.**

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><p><strong>The Hill<strong>

"**Parents seem to only be around to birth you, change your diapers and prevent you from dating the boys you want." -Unknown**

**N**at's face flushed bright red.

"So he _is_ cute." The woman walking next to her cackled, smiling down at Natalie. The red head's name was Marianne. Mari, being one year Nat's senior, was an extremely close friend of hers; the two had known each other for years.

"Well. I suppose."

"You suppose?" Mari's soprano voice rang out, laughing joyously at her friend, "If he wasn't, your mother and father wouldn't worry as much as they do."

"My mother and father only worry because he's army men." Nat reasoned, shrugging, "Not the kind of man they want me marrying."

Mari shook her head, laughing. The sound was a welcome relief to the smaller French woman, reminding her of times when war did not exist, and when the women were free to do whatever they pleased. Marianne ran to the nearest lamp post and swung around it casually.

"But, what if it's love?" Mari smiled under the warm glow of the lamp, "They cannot stop love from happening!"

"I highly doubt it is love. He is American, remember?"

Every French woman in town knew how unromantic the Americans were. While every woman here dreamt of a night on the town, those men only wished to have a woman in their bed. If they could have more than one, it would happen.

"Who cares!" Mari scoffed, looking into the lit up windows of the shops they passed by, "Americans can love! They can be romantic! Anyone can."

"Sometimes you seem younger than me by decades."

Marianne laughed and looked up to the moon. It was a clear night, and the air was fresh. The stars shone down, unclouded by smoke or gunfire or planes. It was a glorious sight to see, and the whole town seemed a bit merrier.

The streets were bustling just as much as they had been during the day. Soldiers dressed in uniform moved in and out of stores, women hooked on their arms. Laughter cut the chilled air sharply, making Nat a bit jealous. Suddenly the woman was yearning for someone to make _her _laugh. Marianne must have noticed, because the woman poked her jacketed shoulder.

"Mon ami, will you stop moping? We have a bar to get to. Un garçond á trouver!" Marianne suddenly grabbed Nat's hand. The younger woman struggled, trying to resist the tugging of her friend. The woman was dragged down the cobblestone street, a combination of swears and threats blurring her speech.

When Mari stopped, she was already entering the _Boire de Minuit, _the bar that Nat was no longer allowed into because of the soldiers. Her mother strongly fought with her father, making Nat relieve her duties of bartender. Natalie, still fearing reprimand from her mother, fought against Mari once more.

"Arrêtez-vous!"

"Oh, c'mon Nat! Regardez!"

Nat followed Marianne's finger and complied with her order. The large glass window in the front of the bar gave an insight into the rowdy and boisterous atmosphere of the bar. Inside, a sea of brown uniforms flooded the tables. The men were laughing, cheering, playing dart. They were having _fun_. Clearly, Marianne wasn't too keen on staying out all night and missing out on this.

"I'm not allowed to, Mari. You go. I'll stay out here."

Marianne humphed in defeat, dropping her shoulders, "S'Il vous plait?"

Nat took a sharp intake of breath before scanning the area. She didn't spot anyone familiar from town, around and surely enough, if she avoided the soldiers she's be alright. Sighing and giving in, Nat nodded. Marianne cheered, tugging her by her jacket sleeve.

The duo weaved their way through the crowds, smiling and apologizing to anyone they bumped.

"Deux verres, s'il vous plait!" Marianne raised her hand bearing two fingers in the air at the bartender, one of the older employees. Nat did not know the man, and assumed he must be a new hire. _Most likely my replacement._

It was a Friday night, and boy, was it busy.

As Nat took her drink from Marianne, she was suddenly bumped from behind, causing her to stumble forward. Marianne's eyes widened as Nat recovered. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bump you. It's just a little crowded in here!" Nat recognized the voice. She spun around and came face to face with Buck Compton's decorated chest. The man smiled down at her, chuckling.

"Welll, what a coincidence. Easy's radioman was just talkin' about ya." Buck looked to Marianne, "and this lovely lady is?"

Marianne's face turned scarlet red as she extended her hand to Buck, "Marianne LePaige."

"It's a pleasure. Lynn Compton. But, please, call me Buck." Compton took her tanned hand and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles. Mari blushed modestly, nodding.

Smiling at Nat and Marianne, he motioned for them to follow him.

"C'mon. Easy's over here."

Behind Buck's back, Marianne leaned over whispering: "I told you they could be romantic."

"Oui."

"Oh, don't be un âne."

Nat made a sour face at her friend as the sound of Easy Company entered their range of hearing. The men were guzzling down beers and whiskey like it was water. One man, dark haired and scruffy looking, hadn't even bothered to use a glass. His bottle read _VAT 69._

"… And then I told her, if youse dun wanna be wiff me, then go ahead and smooch that goose offan idiot ovah there!"

The table suddenly erupted into loud laughter as one man told the story. His Philly accent laced his words, making the story interesting, hooking listeners from other tables in. Buck chuckled as he rounded the table to an empty seat next to a familiar brunette who was staring at his drink, extremely discontent. Buck nudged him and laughed as he jumped slightly. Buck muttered something in his ear.

Suddenly, he looked up, and his big brown eyes spotted Nat.

"Is that him?" Marianne asked, her eyes darting between the man and Nat.

Nat made a face.

"Oui."

Luz stood from his seat, a few "_Aw, C'mon!_"s coming from the table.

"Eh, calm down fellas! I'll be back! Just gimme a sec, will ya'?"

Nat stood awkwardly with her drink in her hand, watching him weave through his fellow men. The overlay of the loud radio in the corner of the room playing Sinatra, with the combined laughter and voices of men seemed to excite Marianne as she bounced on her heels as men from all branches of military smiled and cat called towards her. To Nat, it was a scene that she saw many times a week, a scene she became accustomed to. It was no longer exciting, but for some reason, when Luz approached her singing along to _Come Fly With Me_ she thought her chest was going to explode.

"Pack up! Let's fly away!" Luz chuckled, snapping and bouncing to the music. He lazily spun about, his version of dancing becoming apparent.

Natalie only watched, trying to contain a smile. She failed and turned her head to her drink.

"You Americans have good music." She mused as he waltzed around her by himself.

"Oh dollface, you have no _idea._" Luz slung an arm over her shoulder and leaned into her. One hand flew in front of them, painting the picture of lit-up billboards in New York, "Sinatra, Arties Shaw, and the beautiful Vera Lynn."

Luz sighed dreamily, placing the side of his face against hers comically.

"I thought Vera Lynn was from England."

Luz froze, before peeling his face away from hers and looking her over, "I knew that."

"I am sure you did, George." She countered, brushing his hand off her shoulder and sipping at her drink.

The song playing now sang about love, flying and caused the whole bar to fall into a sing along escapade. It seemed every boy knew the song, even the English. All of the baritone voices combined together, laughing and drinking as well.

"_I've got the world on a strong! I'm sittin' on a rainbow!" _Luz joined in, belting out the chorus and doing his own little dance as one of his fellow soldiers leaned on him and sang with him before passing to the next Easy man, "_I've got that string around my finger!"_

"Care to dance, beautiful?" Luz stuck his hand out, bowing ever so slightly. "_Oh what a world! What a life! I'm in love!"_

Luz joined into the chorus of the song, before taking Nat by the hand and spinning her in a small circle where she stood. Nat stopped in her tracks, not wanting to dance at all. In fact, she was becoming anxious. She couldn't help but feel like someone was watching her.

Nat looked about for Marianne, but didn't see her. She must've gotten dragged off by some soldier who thought she held one-night stand material.

As Natalie scanned the crowd, her eyes rested on an elderly pair of eyes.

Her heart stopped.

"Papa."

_Maybe he doesn't know I'm here_, she reasoned, _if I make a run for it, maybe I'll be okay._

"Something wrong, beautiful?" Luz asked, concern written across his features, "You alright?"

Nat shook her head and suddenly was ridden with guilt, "I'm not supposed to be here. I have to go, George."

"Hey! Wait!" Luz caught her arm as she began to hurry away and only followed her as she weaved through the crowd. Nat was looking all around, her eyes never leaving her surroundings. Luz frowned, something he rarely did, and pushed forward, still grasping her arm.

Finally outside, Luz was taken aback by the chill. Natalie furrowed her brow and wiggled her arm free from his grasp. The small woman began to hurry down the street, away from George.

"Nat! Wait! C'mon!" Luz grabbed her arm again, this time stopping her, "What's wrong? Did I say something?"

"Non. Please. Let me go."

"Natalie. Can ya' just talk to me? Ya' did this a few days ago and I hadn't seen you since."

Natalie looked down, guilt filling her blue eyes. She sighed, "I am not supposed to talk with you, George. My parents do not like it."

Luz stared at her blankly, "Why?"

"You ask that a lot." Natalie quipped before taking a few steps again. Luz groaned and called after her again.

"Will you quit runnin'. Imma paratrooper, not a fuckin' track star." Luz moaned, jogging after her. When he caught up, he noticed how uncomfortable she was.

"If you don't want me seein' ya then-"

"_Non._ It is not that. My parents are just very…" she trailed off, her eyes dead ahead.

"Strict?"

"Oui."

The two walked in silence for a while. Luz followed Natalie through the streets like a puppy dog, only glad to be in her company. For a while it was awkward, but soon it was a comfortable lull that both seemed to think of as protective. When the two came to the end of the cobblestone road and hit dirt, Nat stopped.

"You should go back to the bar. My house is just over the hill."

Luz kicked a rock near his boot, "Yeahhh. I did tell the boys I would be back soon. I guess I lied."

"Oui, you did." Nat laughed and began to start up the hill. Luz coughed, catching her attention.

"Goodnight, Natalie."

She smiled.

"Goodnight, George."

With that, she continued up the hill, thoughts of George Luz drifting through her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Knock**

"**A boy must strive to impress the girl **_**and **_**her parents." –Unknown**

**T**here was a knock on the door of the Déchames household.

It was only about 9:00 in the morning, and the whole household was currently gathered around the dining table in the kitchen, munching on biscuits and eggs and other morning treats. Natalie's father, Pierre, looked up from his coffee eyed his daughter from across the table. Natalie looked up slowly to see that her mother, who was scrubbing dishes, was not making a move for the door.

"I'll get it."

"Oui, go." Her father mumbled, before sipping the hot caffeinated beverage again.

Natalie stood form her chair, the wooden piece of furniture scraping against the floor. She swallowed and took steps towards the door, praying it wasn't one of the neighbors… Nat silently prayed that no one had seen George walk her home.

As Nat got to the door, she opened it slowly and let her eyes adjust to the bright morning light. As Nat's blue eyes laid upon the visitor, her jaw dropped and she closed the door over behind her hurriedly.

"George! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Nat exclaimed in a hushed tone, "Go! Leave!"

George Luz only smiled his lopsided grin and shook his head, avoiding Nat's shooing hands, "Hey! Careful with those things! I've got something for you and your family."

Nat's brow furrowed, "Why?"

"Because. Now let me in, they're going to get cold," He supplied, rubbing his boots on the welcome mat and tossing a smile in Nat's direction.

He wasn't dressed like he was last night. His uniform was other places at the moment, and now, he was wearing a jacket with many pockets and pants that matched. Nat watched as he walked, with his gun slung over his shoulder and a small wicket basket in his hands. His helmet, dented and dirty, was as lopsided on his head as his smile was on his face.

Nat let him in, muttering a small, "Follow me."

Luz complied, following her through the living room and into the kitchen. The soldier felt out of place in the small farmhouse, and as he entered the kitchen, he could have sworn Nat's parents were a vicious as the Jerries themselves. Her father looked up from the paper, his eyes darting quickly from Nat to George. Meanwhile, at the sink, Natalie's mother was trying her hands with a towel hurriedly.

He watched the woman place both hands on her hips, tossing the towel over her shoulder.

"And who is this?" Pierre Déchame asked, placing the paper down on the table.

Nat opened her mouth to explain, but George cut her off.

"George Luz, sir," he offered the basket to Pierre who stood and took it suspiciously, "I would like to apologize for upsetting you over my interactions with Natalie. I meant no harm."

Natalie's father moved the white cloth that was covering the basket to uncover a steaming batch of croissants. Her father chuckled, while Marie took the basket in awe.

"We have not have croissants in ages. Merci, monsieur Luz," Natalie croaked, laughing a bit and smiling at him. Croissants were her favorite as a kid, with strawberry spread and a tall glass of milk… It seemed everything _had_ been lost to the war.

"Where did you get these? My!" Marie smiled at him, pecking both of his cheek quickly and placing the basket in the center of the table. Ushering the man to the table, Luz stopped her.

"No, please ma'am. I'll leave you to eat in peace. I just came to apologize-"

"Nonsense! Sit. You must eat with-"

"Where did you get them?" Pierre cut his wife off sharply causing her head to snap to her husband.

Luz shuffled awkwardly at the man's sudden anger.

"The baker in town. He has been making food for my company," Luz smiled, "Great guy, really… Too bad he doesn't speak a lick of English."

Natalie's father only nodded. She knew her father was good friends with monsieur Reî. It must have been a relief knowing that his friend was alright, because Pierre motioned Luz forward, clapping a hand on the soldiers shoulder.

"I do not trust men with my daughter. Do not take offense. I am sure you are a good man, but one cannot know during a war," Pierre sat, "Please, sit. You must help us eat the croissants. There are far too many."

So Luz sat down in the chair next to Natalie's father.

"Natalie, would you please get coffee for our guest?" Marie piped up, guiding her daughter by the shoulder.

"Oui, mama." Natalie moved from her spot by the door, blinking out of her current state of mind. The young blonde hurried to fetch the coffee pot off the oven. Nat went on her tippy-toes, grabbing one of the nicer mugs from the upper shelf of the cabinet. She poured the coffee quickly, hurrying to listen to their conversation once more.

"Here you go, George," Nat set it down in front of him, "Would you like sugar?"

Luz's deep brown eyes scanned her face, as he took the coffee from her hands. He watched them clench and unclench lazily.

"Please."

And so Nat gave him the sugar pot, and he began to spoon teaspoon after teaspoon into his cup.

"You like sugar?" Pierre asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," Luz noticed what he was doing and stopped, "Very much so."

Natalie only laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Alrightttttyyyyyyyy. Well, I want to thank everyone who's reviewed so far, added the story to their favourites and put it under their alerts! Hopefully, things will start to pick up their pace after this chapter. Nat also meets the boys who are all contenders for the love triangle! So far, I'm leaning towards Babe or Lieb... But, you guys holler and give me your opinions.**

**I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>The Smoke<strong>

"**Protect her like you protect yourself." –Unknown**

"I cannot believe you did that, George," Natalie laughed, her voice light as the two walked through the town.

It was 8:00, and the sun had set only moments ago. The sky was a rich navy blue, with the crescent moon beaming down upon the duo. The shops were open now, with the front windows lit up neatly, beckoning to customers. Natalie, pulling her jacket closer to her body, and continued down the street.

"It was nothing, beautiful," he grinned goofily before throwing an arm around Nat's neck, "Now your parents are fine and dandy with me."

Nat rolled her eyes playfully, pushing the soldier off of her gently, "Oui? Well, I'll have to warn them not to be so sure about you, Monsieur."

Natalie walked a little faster than him, her white shoes clapping against the cobblestone sidewalk. Nat played with a stray curl while George called after her and hurriedly followed her. The music from the _Boire de Minuit _was already drifting into the streets, and as the duo neared the building, it seemed that it was happy hour for the military men.

Many of the women from town were called at as they walked by, causing many of the red faced women to yelp in annoyance. Swears filled the air as the women laughed and continued on their ways. Natalie smiled, watching as some of the men groaned and dropped their shoulder in defeat.

"Hey! Malark!"

"Ah, jeez, Luz. Here we are trying to get the women ta' talk ta' us and you've already got a dame hangin' off your arm!" A man stepped forward, smiling charmingly at both Luz and Natalie. He extended his hand.

"Skip Muck. It's a pleasure, mein frau."

"Skip, that', uh, German not French," George quipped quickly before shaking his head, "Where's Marlark?"

Skip shot a thumb over his shoulder towards one of the US trucks, where a few men were sitting up in the back of it. Laughter echoed from the truck, causing Nat to eye the vehicle. Luz nodded before patting Skip on the back, letting the man get back to the local girls, "_Bonjour, belle!"_

Luz laughed, "Gotta love Skip."

Nat nodded slowly, watching George hoist himself into the truck from the metal step on the right side. She only watched, before leaning on the back tailgate.

"Luz!" a man laughed, "Finally! You were gone all day, man!"

"Ah, shut up, Liebgott," George smacked the man's hat down on his head, "I had stuff ta' do."

"Yeah? How'd the parents like the _croissants_?" One man chuckled, putting a ridiculous French accent on his last word.

"They loved 'em, Gonorrhea," George tossed a look to Nat, "Didn't they, Nat?"

"Oui. Merci," Natalie nodded once, the realization that Natalie was there donned on the men.

"So you must be the girl we're hearin' all about!" The small Italian man from the first time she met Luz waved to her, "I'm Frank. You can call me Perco, if ya' want, beautiful."

George pointed to the man who he had slapped, who was now fixing his cap grumpily.

"That's Liebgott, everyone's favorite Jew," he pointed to the man sitting next to him, who had his head buried in a book, "And that's Webster."

He then tossed a nod to the man with the terrible French accent, "That's Bill Guarnere, but we call him Gonorrhea."

"Isn't that-" Nat was cut off by the man.

"Yeah, yeah. A fuckin' STD, I know," Bill laughed, his South Philly accent coming through.

"Hey, hey, hey. The language, Bill, please," A redheaded man waved him off with his hands, "Don Malarky, beautiful. Call me private Bullshit."

Laughter filled the truck, and even Nat laughed a bit, "Oui, Private Bullshit."

"My, Nat. You gotta mouth on ya'."

Natalie rolled her eyes at Luz, who flashed one of his lopsided grins at her.

There were times, when everyone else was asleep and Natalie was left to her own thoughts that she wondered if perhaps George had perfected his mannerisms around women. It was the smile, she reasoned, it was the smile that made women want to kiss him. Of course, she hadn't wanted to kiss him. That would be obscene and inappropriate. It was just that he seemed to have that attitude. The kind of attitude the boys who used to pull her pigtails in grade school, had. It was unfair, to be honest, that Natalie had finally escaped those boys, but was suddenly thrust into a world when they were only bigger and smarter and… _charming._

"Nat, you okay?" George raised an eyebrow, calling out at the young woman, who shook her head and blinked.

"Je suis désolé," Nat coughed, "I was lost in my own thoughts. What were you saying?"

"The locals, they don't seem to like us much," Bill snarked, "Why? I mean, we aint doin' noffin' bad."

Natalie shrugged, pursing her lips.

"You are soldats. You fire weapons. When soldats and liqueur mix, we do not expect magnifique results. So, we are scared"

Malark scoffed.

"Who tha hell would be scared off a guy like Lieb? Look at 'im. He's a fuckin' twig."

"Hey, I don't go bashin' your body type, do I, readhead?" The skinny man shot back, slapping the man's arm.

"Youse fight like dames," Bill groaned, "Not in frontta' tha' lady, please, boys."

"You know where Babe is?" Luz piped up, rummaging through a bag on the floor of the truck, "I found that pack a' smokes he waqs lookin' for."

"Pass 'em here," Frank clapped his hands and Luz tossed it to him, "Oh, lucky strikes? Nice. Babe found the fuckin' jackpot."

"Again, with the fuckin' swearin'. You guys are terrible," Webster piped up, his head still in his book.

Liebgott tapped the back of his head, Webster's head flying forward and meeting the pages of his book; this causing the man to shoot a glare at him. Liebgott only laughed.

"I do not mind, Monsieur," Natalie offered, "It is alright."

"See! That's why she's a keeper, George!" Frank received a slap on the back of the head for that comment.

From behind Nat, a man sauntered up to the jeep, gently placing a hand on Nat's shoulder, "'Scuse me, miss."

"Ah! Babe! We found ya'."

Nat moved out of his way, letting the man pull himself up into the truck and talk with his friends. Luz introduced him, "This is Edward Heffron, but call him Babe. Only the nuns call him Edward."

Laughter filled the truck again.

"I'm guessing you're Natalie Déchame?" Babe shook her hand, "All of Easy Company's heard a' ya."

"What can I say, I'm a sucker for a beautiful girl," Luz grinned, hopping down from the back of the truck. He took Natalie's hands swiftly, pulling her close. Nat shifted uncomfortably, her face squished into Luz's shoulder. She murmured unhappily, making the boys laugh. Finally George let her go, gasping from air.

"Jesus, monsieur Luz. One would think you are trying to kill me."

"Aw, beautiful, I'm hurt," he placed a hand over his heart mockingly before waving goodbye to his brothers in arms, "Now you boys stay safe, eh? No drinkin' 'n' drivin', eh?"

The men laughed at George's voice.

"Au revoir," Natalie waved as well, "It was nice to meet all of you."

"Now you be careful with dear old Luz!"

"Sock 'im in tha' jaw if ya have ta'!"

"That muppet won't be able to do anything back!"

There was more laughter, and George just waved them off, good-humorlessly. Nat and George walked away, making their way through the crowds of people near the bar and other shops, only to find themselves leaning against the outside window of the bar.

"Smoke?" George offered his pack and when Nat shook her head her chuckled, "Goody two shoes, eh?"

"Non. Those things smell _épouvantable_."

"And that means…?"

"Terrible," she chuckled, burying her hands into her coat pockets as she watched the smoke drift from George's mouth.

"They'll warm ya' up?" he offered once more, watching her with dark brown eyes.

"Non, George," she laughed. He laughed too, leaning onto the all fully now with his pack of cigarettes in one of his many pockets. He puffed on the Lucky Strike again, and exhaled, sending the smoke spiraling through the crispy air.

"George?"

"Yes, Nat," he looked over at her, catching her as she watched a French women and a soldier kiss across the street.

"When will the Germans arrive?"

Luz paused, his brow furrowing slightly. He ran a hand through the front of his hair, trying to tame the wild mane of hair there. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.

"2 days."

"Duex jours? Oh mon dieu…" Natalie sighed, her shoulders dropping, "We knew they would come, we just did not know when."

"I'm sorry," Luz looked down, having nothing else to offer.

"Luz?" Nat looked at him now, "Be careful. I do not want to see vous être mort."

He laughed.

"I won't die."

"It is bad luck to say so."

"I don't have bad luck."

"But, you will now."

"Nat?"

"Oui?"

"Shut up."

She laughed and leaned on him slightly, making him roll his eyes. The two stood like that for a while, just watching the coming and going of other soldiers. Luz made comments and did imitations that made Nat laugh, while she just watched with curiosity written all over her face. Luz liked that, the fact that she was laughing.

He usually made people laugh, and he most definitely made women laugh. Yet, days before, Nat had not even bothered to pay attention to him. He considered this quite a step forward.

"It's getting' late," Luz commented, yawning slightly, "How long have I been making fun of my guys for?"

"A long time," Nat chuckled softly. She pushed off the wall, following Luz as he began to make his way down the street.

"Where are you going?" She asked, calling after him.

"I'm bringing you home," George smiled, "Where else would I-"

_**CRACK.**_

There was gunfire. Lots. Rounds. They were all being fired over the hill. Luz's instincts kicked in. He grabbed Nat's coat and pulled her down. She fell with a groan next to him. Luz peered back behind him, seeing that most of the men had done the same, other taking cover behind the trucks.

From over the hill, distinct shouts met Nat's ears.

"Lassen Sie uns gehen! Die Amerikaner sind da!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Just gonna explain a few things, so this Author's note is kinda importante.**

**So, this is kind of AU. None of these events happened among the story line of Band of Brothers, and I find that if I'm going to be honest, my story wouldn't really fit into the whole plot of BoB. So, I present you my altered version from here on in. The town Nat lives in is in fact Carentan, which means the men have been there for about a week. So instead of our boys arriving, the Germans will be.**

**But, this battle is not going to follow the original plot of the HBO series. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that a lot of this story will have element from the series but not follow it directly.**

**This is gunna be weird, but bear with me? I'm along for the ride as well.**

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><p><strong>The Fear<strong>

"**In the face of death. You run like you have never run before." –Unknown**

"**N**at! No! Get back here!"

And she ran.

Panic flooded her veins, her hearing was gone, and tunnel vision kicked in. Nat was running away from Luz now, over the hill. She knew the shooting was coming from there. She ran anyway. Her parents. Her papa. Her mama. The need for safety amongst her home was pushing her now. She had lost her breath long ago.

She needed to find them.

Her legs kicked under her, spreading and eating up the ground as fast as she could. Her breath was shallow, her muscles crying out in pain as she pushed herself farther and farther. She could hear the Germans more now, and Luz less. Her friend was chasing after her, swearing, threatening her.

She was at the top of the hill now, and she could just see the dirt road ahead. Just as she got to the top of the hill, her heart stopped.

She froze.

Everything slowed down.

"_Move!_"

Someone tackled her into one of the shops as the deafening fire from the Panzer tank went off. The door broke under the weight of the two persons, falling to the wooden floor with a slam. Nat scrambled away from the door as the rumbling of the treads neared the shop. The tank was growing closer, as were the Germans moving on foot. The man who tackled her rolled off of her, adjusting his helmet and fixing his weapon. Nat swallowed.

It was Edward Heffron.

"C'mon sweetcheeks, we gotta move," he hauled her to her feet as the bullets whizzed by outside. The duo stumbled through the shop that Natalie recognized to be the local Tailor's store. Dresses had been lined up neatly in the front shop window, but now, only shattered bits of glass and knocked over mannequins remained.

Nat looked back once. This was enough time for her to nervously trip over her feet and fall to the floor hard. Her head hit the wood and she cried out, quickly hurrying to get back on her feet. Babe pulled her up again.

"C'mon! The krauts will be here-"

_**BOOM**_

The shop shook and glass broke. But, it didn't matter. Nat's hearing was gone. The tank was outside the shop now, with Germans flooding in through the front door behind them. They weaved through they shop together, her hand clasped in Babe's. He kicked down the back door and ushered Nat out, firing a round back into the shop at the enemy.

"Edward! They are coming!" Her voice was weak, and she stood in shock as more of the men were rounding the back of the shop.

He was back beside her now, clutching the frightened woman's hand. He led her back to the street, where the two peeped out from behind one of the houses. They saw their friends, Babe's brothers in arms. Nat saw George, screaming into a radio, as he huddled close to a truck for cover.

"On the count of three, I want you to run as fast as you can," he screamed, attempting to be heard over the kraut arterially. Nat shook her head violently, it still pounding from her fall earlier.

"I cannot. No. I will not," She sputtered, tears forming in her eyes, "They will shoot me."

Babe shook his head, "No. I'll count. They won't. I promise."

He took her by the shoulders now, facing her towards the road. Nat was protesting, stepping back and shying away from him. He grabbed her again, harder.

"One."

_**ZWIP, CRACK.**_

"Non, monsieur."

_**BOOM.**_

"Two."

_**SNAP, CRACK.**_

"Monsieur, please. Non. Do not make me-"

"_Three!"_

_**ZWIP, ZWIP, ZWIP, CRACK.**_

And she ran.

She ran faster than she ever has in her life. She ran with the hounds of hell nipping at her heels. Her feet slapped against the ground hard. Her hair flew into her face. Her breath was gone. It felt like she had been running for miles. Time was slowed. She could hear the bullets hitting the ground behind her. She ran so fast, she fell over herself as she tried to stop. Her knees hit the ground, and her dress tore.

She was safe.

She was in the doorway of the _Boire de Minuit. _

Luz made eye contact with her, his upper lip twitching slightly from across the road. She saw it. She knew he was angry with her. She hadn't known him for more than a week and she knew he was angry. The next thing she saw was the pure look of fear in his eyes. His hand griping the radio to his ear was shaking.

Nat stepped out from the doorway of the bar, only to be sent tripping back in when a stray bullet hit the ground infront of her.

"_Nat, don't you fucking dare move! Don't. Stay there!" _

Luz was screaming now, his hands waving frantically at her. Nat was shaking now, her chest sobbing in a panicked rush. She whipped her face, pulling her hand away to find a slick red substance coating her palm. She touched her forhead once more, pulling away to find more blood covering her face.

"_Nat, look at me. You'll be okay! Just don't move!"_

She nodded and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

It wasn't working.

She watched Luz and the other soldiers communicate with one another, moving back and forth between buildings and other forms of cover. She spotted Edward Heffron, and almost smiled. He was firing back at the Germans now, covered by a military jeep. His back slammed against the vehicle as he reloaded frantically.

The tank was rolling down the hill now, and it was coming dangerously close to where Babe was.

Natalie clambered onto her two feet, throwing her hair out of her face, realization donning on her.

"George! The tank! _The others are in the way!"_

Luz snapped his helmeted head to where she was pointing, spotting Babe as he braced himself against the jeep, trying not to be shot by one of the approaching Germans. His brown eyes widened, before he stood up and waved at Babe. His arms flapped through the air as his radio dragged behind him.

"_Babe! The tank!" _he bellowed, "_Move!"_

Babe did not see him or hear him, yet continued to shoot down Germans. The man beside him, Bill Guarnere was yet to spot Luz either. Natalie stepped out this time, popping her head from around the corner.

"_You need to move!"_

"_Babe! Bill!"_

"_Please, Monsieurs! The tank will crush you!"_

Nat made eye contact with Luz as she stepped out from behind the Bar's cover. Bill was reloading now, and as Nat flagged him down, Luz screamed his warning as more of the men joined in motioning them to move. The two, now aware of the proximity of the tank, flew from their cover, ducking into an alleyway between two buildings.

The tank stopped.

"C'mon, men, let's move!"

A man, tall and slender was now ushering men out from behind trucks and across the street into homes and shops. The man along with a few others crammed into the _Boire de Minuit_, weapons being reloaded. Luz, following Liebgott, trailed into the bar with his Company. Nat recognized a lot of the men, feeling much safer than before.

Luz squeezed her arm, her eyes darting across her forehead, "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, nodding as he fixed his helmet.

"Don't you dare do that again," he hissed, "You coulda' gotten ki-"

"_**GRENADE!**_"

Nat turned her head, her eyes spotting Germans who had now taken position across from the bar. She heard the _pink_ of the grenade on the glass front window, and before she knew it, there was a deafening explosion.

She was thrown into darkness, pain taking over her senses.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Silence**

"**Pain is the overwhelming emotion of losing." –Unknown**

**N**at woke up in an empty room.

There was nothing.

Only a window, displaying a sweet June morning. The blue was a slick with cloud whips, while tree's swung about with lush branches.

There weren't even curtains on said window.

Nat stirred, her legs kicking uncomfortably under the thin sheets of the room. She moaned, blinking, her head pounding and her ears ringing. Something felt off, and as Nat reached up to rub her face, she screamed.

Her vision went red.

Bandages were sprawled across the right side of her face, matted and blood soaked. She took a deep breath and went to go sit up, yelling out in pain again. Nat tore at the sheets on her legs, now realizing her dress, torn and bloody was nowhere to be seen. She looked down, surveying her underclothing.

She felt naked, and exposed, and in pain.

So, she did what any of girl would do. She began to cry.

She cried for her mother and her father and the bar and all of the other things that had gone wrong. There were footsteps, and the door flew open. Swallowing and sobbing slightly, Nat jumped as she felt a hand on her back.

"Shhh, mon cheri. Il sera bein," the voice was deep and low and comforting. Nat continued to cry, watching more soldiers appear in the doorway. Their boots clattered upon the wooden floor as they watched her.

"They are calling you an angel," he whispered, "It is a miracle you are alive."

She turned to him.

He had dark hair and dark eyes and dark circles under the gentle orbs. His hands were strong. Used. Stained. They had a reddish tint to them, and as Nat's gaze lingered on him, she spotted the red cross on his upper arm. He was a medic. He was an angel, not her. He saved her. She knew it.

"I'm Eugene Roe. You can call me Gene, if ya' like."

Nat went to go wipe the tears from her face.

He grabbed her hands.

"Non, ne fais pas ça."

She looked at her hands and then sniffed.

"Oui," she croaked. She wouldn't touch her face. He didn't want her to worsen the injury.

"Lie down, belle femme. I will change yo' bandages. Yo'll be more comfortable."

He was gentle and helped her lie back down. Her blue eyes were glued to the doorway full of men who watched the medic with curiosity. Eugene ignored them. He held Natalie's hand and began to remove the bandages with his other hand.

There was a sudden clatter of boots in the hallway.

"Where is she? Is she alright?"

"George, calm down!"

It was George. He was standing in the doorway now, his brothers crowded around him. Nat only watched him as he pushed through and watched her.

There was a lingering stare and then Nat cried out in pain.

"Shhh, belle femme. It's alrigh'."

The medic continued to work, but this time, George was by her side. He was next to her, opposite of Gene. A few men stepped inside the room now, the tension in the air subsiding. She saw Edward, who was at the foot of the bed with Liebgott and Skip. She saw Webster clutching a small red book in his hands. She saw Bill Gonorrhea who was standing with some of the older soldiers. She saw the tall lanky man from at the bar, who was now helmet-less and donning a bright mess of red hair.

"George. Where are my parents?" she was panicked, terrified, skittish. George knew by the wavering confidence in her voice.

"I, uh, I'm not sure, Nat."

There were tears again. Nat was handed a handkerchief by Gene, who continued to work at the bandages on her face. She dabbed at her face.

"Did you kill the Germans?"

Soft laughter echoed in the room.

"I was being serious. I do not like them. They have ruined too much of my life."

"You're not the only one, sweetie," Bill frowned. The man next to him, the redheaded one, stepped forward and was followed by a shorter, darker haired man.

Nat winced again, and Gene apologized.

"I'm Richard Winters, and this is my intelligence officer Lewis Nixon," he paused, his hands wringing themselves, "We have taken Carentan successfully. So to answer your question, we did kill the Germans."

He stopped and Natalie nodded.

"Oui? Why are you not happy?"

"They will return. We have been ordered to stay here for as long as it takes to win this fight," Lewis Nixon picked up.

Natalie hissed.

"Thank you."

"Just doing our job, miss."

And they left.

The room was silent once more, and the only sound was the tinkering of Gene and his Medical kit. He put the scissors down, and peeled away the last bit of bandages. Nat winced and tried not to cry out in pain. George shifted on his feet.

"You got lucky, kiddo."

"I do not feel lucky."

"Well, y'are," Gene sighed, eyeing the lacerations to the side of her face, "The glass was all imbedded in ya'. I was surprised you didn't lose an eye."

Nat frowned.

"It is bad?"

Gene leaned back a bit, looking over the side of her face. Nat kept her head straight forward, blinking away tears,

"Oui. I am going to be honest," Gene muttered, "It is not going to heal completely."

"May I see?"

"Non."

George grabbed her hand, and that stupid smile was on his face again, "I think you look beautiful. Just a little cut up tha's all."

"That's all?" Nat's voice rose and the room shuffled awkwardly, "So it is not _that _bad, Eugene?"

"…"

"Gene is bein' a drama queen. You're tha' finest dame out there," Babe piped up, smiling.

Nat was glad Babe was alright. She had not seen or heard what had happened to him after the incident with the tank. She was just glad the redhead was alright, standing among the others.

Still, this did not make Nat feel any better. She did not want to be scarred. She moved, shifting her weight and sat up straight. The sheets were irritating. They were not soft. They were starchy and stiff and itchy. So Natalie went to get up. The room stiffened.

"Where is my dress? I would like to go down stairs, monsieur. I am uncomfortable."

George stood, tossing her a smile, "I'll be right back, dollface. I've got the perfect thing fah' ya."

And so, while Luz left, Gene ushered everyone out, and returned to his business, putting the bandages back on Natalie's face gently. It only took him a few minutes, gently taping small bandages on the woman's face. By the time he was done, the room reeked of disinfecting agent and George was back with a dress.

Gene collected his things, leaving the room quickly.

"Here," Luz smiled, offering a polka-dotted dress, "I found it. I hope you like it."

Nat sat up in the bed, taking it softly. It was a beautiful dress, with a bow around the waist and a light blue color painting it. She smiled up at Luz, laughing a bit.

"It is beautiful."

"Jus' like you."

"Non. I am 'cut-up'. This dress is not."

Luz laughed, "I'll let you put it on."

George made his way to the door, but stopped mid-step as Nat called out.

"Monsieur. I need help."

Nat did not care if he saw her. She was wearing her undergarments. Sure, it was unlady-like. But so was drinking and letting the soldiers be your friends. It was not like she was bare in front of him. She trusted Luz, so she wiggled into the dress quickly, before backing up to him.

"Can you tie the bow?"

Luz swallowed and nodded.

Quickly grabbing either side of the fabric, he tugged it back behind her.

"Tight enough?"

"Oui."

Luz pulled the two ends of the white ribbon together, letting his hands work quickly to tie a neat bow. Nat rocked on her bare feet silently, making Luz laugh a bit at her childish actions. Luz straightened the ribbon on her sides, making her straighten a bit. His hands resting on her hips, and the soldier was suddenly resisting the urge to kiss the blonde right then and there.

Nat froze. It was a different feeling. Luz had touched her before, of course. They had danced and he had held her hand and many other things but this was different. Her stomach dropped and she felt light and to be honest, she didn't like it. It gave her jitters, and her face was suddenly flush. She swallowed as Luz kept his hands there for a moment.

"Nat?"

"O-Oui?"

She turned her head a bit, catching a glimpse of his cocky smile out of the corner of her blue eyes. The blonde smiled back, calmed by the silliness of the soldier. Luz spun her about, making a funny face, causing the woman to laugh. He was humming now, most likely Sinatra, and spinning her around.

"You're the next Vera!"

"George, Vous êtes un idiot."

And so the two left the room, Nat trying to ignore the pain in her face from smiling.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry this only took forever. I had midterms last week and everything just blew up and ruined my time management for this story. I apologize, and here's the next chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Search<strong>

"**When somebody loves you, it shows in every smile." –Frank Sinatra**

It had been a week since the invasion on Carentan. The small French town was recovering well, rebuilding and cleaning the rumble and debris from the fight. Soldiers, women and even children helped clean, sweeping up what they could and pretending the fighting ever happened.

In that week, Nat rarely saw Luz. He and the other members of easy company had taken up the chore of setting up base on the out rim of the town. The defensive points were located in five spots around the town. Guns were atop houses and shops, as well as on the ground. It seemed that the town was ready for anything.

Nat had reunited with her mother and father after the day she met Richard Winters and Lewis Nixon. He parents, worried but relieved, were glad she was alright. The gashes to the side of her face weren't healing as fast as she wished, but Nat was still grateful for Eugene being there. She stopped by the Easy Company CP every morning to visit the medic who would, in turn, change her bandages and talk with her about his home.

It was refreshing to hear of this far off place. Eugene and Luz both spoke of America with such zeal, Nat thought they would break into song. It was funny almost, the way they spoke of their families. Frowning, Nat played with her fingers. They must miss their families…

So, as she sat and watched a few soldiers play baseball in the street, Nat couldn't help but wonder where George was. She hated to admit it, but she was beginning to miss the American. She had seen Babe an hour earlier when she entered CP to see 'Doc Roe' as many called him. The ginger, smiling happily and shaking her hand, greeted her. She smiled back, thanking him once again for saving her life during the skirmish with the Germans. Babe Heffron only shrugged, a small blush playing upon his pale cheeks. He told her it was nothing, and he told her it was his job after all.

Sighing and recalling that Babe had said nothing of George's whereabouts, Nat took it upon herself to look for him.

Hopping silently down from her perch on the stone wall, she maneuvered around the loud baseball game with ease. She climbed up the hill, sliding through soldiers and townsfolk who were making their way back from the market.

She looked around in the grocery, not spotting the messy haired soldier.

She looked in the bakery where Luz had gotten the croissants a week ago.

She looked in the small bookstore with the shattered front window.

She looked in her families bar where men sat quietly and drank.

She looked in the tailor shop that was destroyed by the German tank.

It seemed as if George Luz was nowhere. Nat frowned and huffed, slouching against the stone building to her right. The sun, beating down on her, was hot and soon she found herself sticky with sweat from the summer morning and all of this looking. Contently running a hand through her hair, Nat enjoyed a quick breeze before she bounced onto her feet again.

"Nat!"

The blonde snapped her head to her right, watching as the small Italian Easy Company man jogged up to her.

Smiling she greeted him, "Bonjour, Monsieur Perconte."

"Heya, kid. Listen, Luz wanted me ta give this to ya. Apparently, your Pa is throwin' a little get tagether at your bar."

Nat nodded. She already knew. It was a party for the soldiers with performances from the local men and women. There would be singing and dancing and Nat was well aware of it. Grasping the small piece of paper from Perconte, she nodded in appreciation.

"Thank you, Perconte."

He smiled and gave a sloppy salute before scurrying off in the other direction.

Nat leaned against the wall again, flipping the small paper open. It seemed that the paper had been torn from a notebook, since the left edge was torn and tattered. The handwriting on the inside was barely legible and Nat laughed. It was exactly what she pictured Luz's writing like.

_Nat:_

_There is going to be a party at the Boire de Minuit at 7:00 tonight. I would like to call upon you to be my date. Don't worry about your parents, because I already asked them._

_It will be a little awkward if you say no._

_So, please obilge in my request and say yes, that way we both don't have to deal with the awkwardness later on._

_-George Luz_

Nat snorted softly before grinning.

"He spelt 'oblige' wrong…"

* * *

><p>"You look beautiful, mon ami," Mari piped up and swatted Nat's hand as she reached up to touch her now victory curled hair, "Stop touching it!"<p>

"That hairstyle is all the rage in America," Mrs. Déchame smiled, watching her daughter and her best friend from the doorway.

The updo was taming her ever so daring blonde curls, but only barely. A few stray strand poked out here and there, but Nat was used to this. It no longer bothered her. Nat felt out of place. She was not used to being so dressed up and so dolled up. It was foreign feeling to have makeup on her pale face and pins in her hair. Normally, all of this went undone by Nat but according to her mother, she must look well for the soldiers tonight.

She didn't mind. Not at all, but she only loathed the look upon George Luz's face when he spotted her approaching the _Boire de Minuit _with Mari. The look was complete with a slack jaw and catcalls from Perconte who by his side. Nat wondered if he could see the blush that was burning under the copious amounts of powder on her face.

"Heya, Nat," he breathed before smiling and taking her hand, "You look great."

"Merci, George. You look very nice as well."

He was wearing his brown dress uniform that was decorated in small medals. It was starched and strict looking on him. Nat didn't necessarily hate it; it just seemed to be the complete opposite of his personality. He looked handsome, there was no doubting that, with his jacket and cap. It was daunting to her, to be reminded that Luz was a military man…

He was so carefree and funny, she would have never guessed it if they had met another way.

She was taken by the arm gently and ushered into the bar.

"C'mon. The party's already started."

There was that smile again.


End file.
